CHAP. IX. THE BLENNY-FISH. 237 



three privates. By the kind permission of the lance- 

 corporal, who came to see us as soon as he had got into 

 his trousers and shirt, we took up our quarters in the 

 Custom-house, which, like the other buildings, is a small 

 square floorless hut of mangrove stakes overlaid with reeds. 

 The soldiers complained of hunger, they had nothing to 

 eat but a little mapira, and were making palm wine to 

 deaden their cravings. While waiting for a ship, we had 

 leisure to read the newspapers and periodicals we found in 

 the mail which was waiting our arrival at Tette. Several 

 were a year and a half old. 



Our provisions began to run short ; and towards the 

 end of the month there was nothing left but a little bad 

 biscuit and a few ounces of sugar. Coffee and tea were 

 expended, but scarcely missed, as our sailors discovered 

 a pretty good substitute in roasted mapira. Fresh meat 

 was obtained in abundance from our antelope preserves on 

 the large island made bj^ a creek between the Kongone 

 and East Luabo. 



In this focus of decaying vegetation, nothing is so 

 much to be dreaded as inactivity. We had, therefore, 

 to find what exercise and amusement we could, when 

 hunting was not required, in peering about in the fetid 

 swamps ; to have gone mooning about, in listless idleness, 

 would have ensured fever in its worst form, and probably 

 with fatal results. 



A curious little blenny-fish swarms in the numerous 

 creeks which intersect the mangrove topes. 'When 

 alarmed, it hurries across the surface of the water in a 

 series of leaps. It may be considered amphibious, as it 

 lives as much out of the water as in it, and its most busy 

 time is during low water. Then it appears on the sand or 

 mud, near the little pools left by the retiring tide; it 

 raises itself on its pectoral fins into something of a stand- 

 ing attitude, and with its large projecting eyes keeps a 



